The Existence Of Magic
by ThePossibilityOfMagic
Summary: For Castle and Beckett, Drake's is definitely a place where magic happens.


_*Possible spoiler warning for 3x12! I think. Well, sort of. Doesn't give away much, if anything, but I'll keep the warning just in case.* _

_So, I know I'm definitely not the only one that watched the Castle/Beckett scene out front of Drake's and wondered, "Wouldn't it be so cool if they'd met there as kids?" Well, after finishing the ep (which I thought was AMAZING, by the way) I was still wondering about that. And then before I knew it, a Word document was open in front of me and I just started typing. I know there's already been a story or two along these lines, but here's my take on Castle & Beckett's magical first meeting... _

* * *

No one had ever asked Ricky Rodgers where his favourite place in the world was, but if they had, he would have known _exactly_ what to tell them.

Drake's Magic Shop was not just a wonderland of mystical items and mind-bending tricks. To one thirteen year old boy, it was an escape; a thrilling, magical world where anything was possible, and where no one ever asked him to mix up a cocktail for their breakfast.

It was not that he didn't love his mother; in fact, just the opposite. He loved her so much that it was hard for him to see her so unhappy. And today was even worse than usual– he'd heard her yelling at Uncle Donald last night, and when he'd gotten up this morning, Uncle Donald was gone and his mother was once again nursing an icepack and a bloody mary. Knowing there was nothing he could do to make her feel better, Ricky had simply sat by her side, holding her hand and making up whispered stories about brutal villains named Donald and the superhero crime fighters who brought him to justice.

When at last his mother had fallen asleep, he quietly cleaned away the empty glass, replacing it with a glass of water and a note saying where he'd gone. Then he walked out the door.

Half an hour later, he was stepping through the doorway of Drake's, leaving the real world–and his own life– behind.

It was a Sunday, so naturally the store was packed. Ricky wandered between the familiar displays, stopping to look at one thing, then pick up another, completely ignoring the presence of the other customers, who moved noisily around him like waves parting around a rock. As he neared the counter, he caught the eye of Old Man Drake, and smiled.

Drake sent him a grin and a wink in return, then continued his conversation with another old man. Ricky liked Old Man Drake. Sometimes, when the store was quiet, he would come over and talk with Ricky, or teach him tricks. Once, he'd even said that Ricky had the makings of a true magician.

Ricky had liked that.

Knowing Old Man Drake would be too busy to hang out today, Ricky moved on. A new item in the very back corner of the store had caught his eye, and he wound his way towards it, passing through the chattering crowd of kids with practised ease.

As he approached the new addition, he could see that it was a big mirror with a fancy gold frame. Coming to a halt before it, Ricky saw that it was even taller than he was, and easily twice as wide. Leaning in close to examine it, he frowned in concentration as he searched for its secret.

Because it _had_ to have a secret; for Old Man Drake to put it in his shop, there had to be a trick to it somewhere. But what was it?

Ricky stared intently at his reflection, determined to figure it out. After several fruitless moments, he carefully reached out, intending to feel the glass of the mirror for anything strange. Just as his fingertips were about to brush the surface, the mirror shouted, "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

With a yelp, Ricky threw himself backwards, landing heavily on his butt. Heart pounding, eyes wide, Ricky stared in disbelief at the mirror, which seemed to be _giggling _at him.

Scrambling to his feet, he took a step towards the mirror just as a head poked around the side. Two large green-brown eyes peeked at him through a curtain of auburn hair, and he froze in surprise, watching as the owner of those eyes hopped out from behind the mirror, still giggling.

"I got you so good!" the girl said gleefully, "you should have seen your _face_!"

Recovering a little, Ricky's curiosity managed to outweigh his embarrassment. Moving closer, he looked from the girl to the mirror and back again.

"How did you _do_ that?"

"Oh, easy! I'll show you," said the girl, disappearing back behind the mirror. Following eagerly, Ricky ducked behind the mirror, squeezing into the space between the mirror and the wall. The girl moved over to make room for him, and once he was settled they simultaneously turned their heads to look at the back of the mirror.

Only it wasn't a mirror at all. Ricky stared in amazement at the rest of the shop, which was clearly visible through the fake-mirror, just like looking through a window.

"Whoa…" he breathed, gaping, utterly transfixed, as a small child wandered up to the mirror, looked at their reflection for a moment, then walked away.

"And they really can't see us at all?" he whispered to the girl, tearing his eyes away from the magic mirror to look at her.

Lifting an eyebrow, she said, "Well, you didn't see _me_, did you?"

"Nope," he replied, then looked around as a thought struck him. "How'd you make it talk?"

"There," said the girl, pointing at a pipe which fed into the frame of the mirror. "You talk into that and people think the mirror's talking to them."

She looked him up and down with another little giggle. "_You_ totally did."

"Yeah, I guess I did," Ricky admitted, only a little embarrassed. For a minute the two of them simply sat silently, watching the other customers flow through the shop on the other side of the mirror.

After a little while, Ricky turned to look at the girl. She was younger than he was; only maybe eight or nine. Her hair was long and brown and shiny, and she wore a pretty blue dress with a little butterfly brooch on it. Suddenly realising he didn't even know her name, Ricky introduced himself.

"Hey, I'm Ricky, by the way."

"My name's Katie," the girl replied with a cute smile. "Well, it's really Katherine, but no one calls me that, unless I'm in trouble."

Ricky grinned. "Yeah, my mother only calls me Richard when I've done something real bad. Are your mom and dad here too?" he asked, looking through their mirror-window at the other people in the store.

"Nope, I'm here with my grandpa. He's friends with Mr Drake and he does magic, too."

Ricky looked back at Katie. "Can _you_ do any tricks?"

"Only really easy stuff. Grandpa's been teaching me, but he's _way_ better than I am."

"Do you want to see a cool trick?"

Katie nodded excitedly. "Yeah!"

"Okay," Ricky said, then frowned in concentration. "You ready?"

"Yep."

"Put your hands out like this." Ricky demonstrated and Katie copied him, her small hands cupped in front of her. Concentrating hard, Ricky made lots of theatrical hand movements in the air above her hands, then placed both of his hands palm-down on top of hers. Then, with a flourish, he removed his hands, leaving behind an origami flower resting lightly on her cupped palms.

"_Wow_," she breathed, her eyes wide.

"Good, huh?" Ricky asked with a grin.

"That was awesome!" Katie held up the flower, examining the red paper petals, the green stem and leaf. "You made this?"

"Yeah, I–" He began, but was suddenly cut off by an older male voice calling "Katie?"

"Oh, that's my grandpa," Katie said as they both looked through the glass, seeing an old man looking around, clearly searching for something.

"I gotta go."

"But–"

"Seeya, Ricky!" Katie said with a grin, disappearing through the narrow gap on the other side of the mirror.

"Uh, bye…" he said after her, watching through the glass as she ran over to her grandpa and took his hand, disappearing with him into the crowd of customers. Shaking his head slightly, Ricky got to his knees, then pushed himself out from behind the mirror.

It really was about time he headed home too; his mother would probably wake soon, and he wanted to have a proper lunch cooked when she did. Turning around for one last look at the magical mirror, Ricky paused, noticing something sparkly on the ground by its base. Stepping over to it, he picked it up, knowing exactly what it was.

_Katie's butterfly brooch_. It must have come off when she squeezed out past the mirror.

Taking a quick look around the store, he couldn't see her anywhere. What should he do with it? Leave it at the desk with Old Man Drake?

Looking down at the glittering butterfly in his hand, he paused, then closed his fingers around it. He'd run into her sooner or later; he would give it back then. Slipping it into his pocket, he headed for the door.

Time to return to the real world.

_

* * *

_

Twenty-four years later…

"I still can't believe Zalman Drake is dead," Castle sighed, collapsing into his chair at the end of Beckett's desk. "You know what a blow this is for magic lovers everywhere? And what if they have to shut down Drake's Magic Shop? Some of my best memories happened in that shop."

"Why don't you buy it? That seems like your standard response in this kind of situation," Beckett responded dryly, not even bothering to look up from her notes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Castle asked guardedly, peering at her from over the top of his recently purchased X-Ray specs.

Beckett gave a loud, false cough that sounded suspiciously like "Old Haunt!"

"Oh, that was totally different," retorted Castle. "Anyone with an appreciation of alcohol is fit to own a bar. Drake's should be owned by no-one but a true magician."

"I'm sure Drake's will find a new owner. If it's as popular now as when I was eight, there shouldn't be any problem finding someone to step up and take it over."

"Mmmm…" Castle responded, unconvinced. For a minute or two he was silent, lost in thought, before he realised there was something odd about what she'd said.

"Why eight?"

"Excuse me?" Beckett looked up from her notes, confused.

"You said it was popular when you were eight. Why eight?"

"Oh," Beckett said, understanding. "Well, until today, I hadn't been to Drake's since I was eight years old."

"Why not?" Castle asked curiously, taking off his X-Ray specs and putting them aside as he looked at her.

"My grandfather was the only one who took me there, and he died late that year."

"Oh," Castle said, suddenly grave. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Castle, it was a long time ago." Seeing his concern, Beckett flashed him a small, reassuring smile before returning to her notes.

Castle was silent for a few moments before asking quietly, "And after all this time, you still remember the tricks he taught you?"

"Yeah, well, he only taught me the easy stuff," Beckett said with a half-shrug. "He was way better than I am."

Castle sat up straight, suddenly excited. "Do you want to see a cool trick?"

Beckett looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "How long will it take? Because you might recall we have this little thing called a murder to solve."

"It's very quick. Hold out your hands."

With a small sigh, Beckett turned toward him and stuck her hands straight out in front of her.

"No, like this," Castle explained, taking her hands in his and cupping them together. Swallowing slightly, he removed his hands from hers, trying not to think about how warm and soft her skin had felt beneath his fingers.

Beckett raised an eyebrow, looking at him expectantly. Moving his hands above hers in carefully choreographed flourishes, Castle watched her face, her eyes glued to his hands as they moved over hers with graceful precision. Finally, Castle placed his hands palm-down over hers, then drew them away with a final flourish, revealing an origami flower cupped lightly in her palms.

Triumphant, Castle waited for Beckett's reaction, expecting her to be at least moderately impressed. After all, he felt that it was a rather remarkable trick, especially since he'd invented it himself; indeed, it was definitely worthy of some admiration.

But, as he watched her, his feeling of achievement faded into one of confusion. Yes, he'd expected her to be impressed– but he had _not_ expected the look of wonder that had come across her face as she stared down at the flower she held.

Slowly, she lifted her head to look up at him. "How did you know?"

"Uh… know what?" Now he was most definitely confused.

"How did you know this was my favourite trick?" Beckett asked, her eyes locked with his.

"Wait, what?" Castle responded, taken aback. Then he frowned. "You can't have seen this trick before. It's mine. I invented it."

Beckett had been staring at the flower again, but lifted her head at his words.

"You invented it?"

"When I was thirteen. No one else knows how to do this trick."

For a moment Beckett was silent, her eyes wide as she stared at him with an expression of wonder. Then, slowly, she put the flower down onto her desk, and reached for the drawer.

From the very back of the drawer she pulled a battered old notebook, then began carefully searching through its pages, looking for something. After a moment she stopped, then gently pulled something from between the pages, carefully holding it out to Castle.

Looking down at it, Castle felt his jaw drop. In her hand was another origami flower, flattened and creased with age, but otherwise identical to the one he'd just made appear.

For several moments he simply stared at the flower, truly speechless for one of the few times in his life. Finally, he looked up slowly, seeing Beckett's eyes upon him. Holding her gaze, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and opening it. Looking down briefly, he unzipped the coin compartment, his fingers fishing around inside for the irregular-shaped item he knew would be there.

Finding it, he closed his fingers around it and withdrew them from the wallet, tossing the wallet aside on the desk as his eyes met Beckett's once more. Then he held out his hand towards her, slowly unfurling his fingers from around the small object.

He heard her give a tiny, stunned gasp, his eyes fixed on her face as she tentatively reached for the butterfly-shaped brooch he held. Lifting it gently in her fingers, she turned it towards the light and watched the sparkles play across its surface, her eyes wide with shock and awe.

Eventually, she lowered the brooch, her shell-shocked gaze meeting and holding his.

Clearing his throat slightly, Castle finally recovered his ability to speak.

"So, Detective, you say you believe in magic…" he said softly, then paused, his eyes never leaving hers.

"How's your opinion on fate lately?"

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_Well, I hope you enjoyed this new story. And don't forget, I absolutely love reviews... :) _


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